Feelings
by short1-86
Summary: Set right after the "Hurt Locker" scene, Santana drowns her feelings. Spoilers for Duets  2.4 , Blame It on the Alcohol  2.14 , and Sexy  2.15


**A/N:** Song is "Seventy Times 7" by Brand New

"Get off me!" Santana pushed Brittany away and walked briskly away from her, heading outside. She had already caused enough of a scene in the McKinley High hallway and didn't want everyone else seeing her heart break, mascara streaks running down her face. _Waterproof__my__ass_, she thought as she ran across the parking lot. She could barely breathe as she slammed her car door shut and started the ignition.

Her CD player whirred to life and picked up where it last left off this morning. "If you see my reflection…"

Santana quickly pushed the audio-off button and hugged the steering wheel. It was all too much for her to handle. She wasn't used to these feelings… she had always pushed them to the back of her mind. No one had ever made her think about the way she felt during sex; how she was just going through the motions and not giving a damn about herself or the person she was with. She always squeezed her eyes shut while guys were on top of her, drowning out the voices in her head that were telling her that something wasn't right… that they weren't Brittany.

Brittany. She had always known in the back of her head that there was something more there. When Brittany had asked Santana to sing a duet with her, Santana panicked. She told her best friend that she wasn't in love with her even though the voice in her head was screaming at her to stop and look at BritBrit and think about it, put two and two together, and be happy for once. Instead, she called up a random member of the football team that she hadn't slept with in a while and gave him another go-around, while Brittany forged ahead with Wheels McGee. Because of her.

Santana wiped her eyes and put her car in drive, heading out of the parking lot. She didn't want to think about any of this anymore, and certainly didn't want to feel. She picked out one of her favorite CDs, one that Brittany never liked listening to ("They're always screaming, can't we listen to their floaty CD where they're not mad?"), and selected the ninth song. She felt the need to scream, and this song was perfect.

_Back in school they never taught us what we needed to know/  
>like how to deal with despair, or someone breaking your heart  
>For twelve years I've held it all together but a night like this is begging to pull me apart.<em>

Santana filled her car up with sound and drove home, only stopping long enough to grab a few leftover bottles of liquor from her last party. She headed somewhere that no one would ask her how she was feeling – a cheap motel in the seedy area of town that never carded, the same one where she deflowered Finn and spent half the night wondering why she couldn't remember how she felt afterward.

She chucked the grimy keys on the nightstand and looked through her phone contacts. There were a few hundred people she could call to get her mind off things, but she needed to feel better now so she dialed the first number she saw-#19. A random senior football player answered (Santana couldn't remember his name; was it Greg? Craig?) and cockily agreed to drive over to where Santana was staying. She wasted no time in getting down to business and mindlessly laid there while he pumped in and out, moaning about how good she felt. Her eyes shut tight the entire time, she let the world melt away and let the liquor take over her actions, her thoughts, and her feelings.

Three hours later and after Greg/Craig left, Santana downed the rest of the second bottle of liquor. The flavored vodka burned as it settled into her stomach. There wasn't much alcohol in the bottles to begin with but she knew she had too much to drink and couldn't drive. She stood up and stumbled to her phone, typing out a quick drunk text without thinking about it - _jst__4gt__wt__i__said_- and sent it the contact most used in her phone.

Almost immediately, a text was sent back. _u__ok?__i__dnt__want__to__4gt,__i__do__love__u._

Santana threw her phone across the room and swigged from the third bottle of alcohol. It didn't burn like the others had earlier so she just chugged it until it was empty. She laid down on the bed and cried herself to sleep, hoping to stop feeling so alone.

She woke up in the middle of the night, still dizzy from the alcohol. She wanted to be in her own bed and away from the shithole she was currently in, where it smelled like sloppy sex and vomit. She grabbed her phone and dialed the last person she thought she would be calling at 2AM.

Mr. Schuester picked her up, just like he promised he would after she and Brittany had upchucked on stage in front of the entire school. He didn't ask any questions and didn't even say a word until he pulled into Santana's driveway, "If you want to talk…"

"No, I don't. I… I can't. Not yet. But thanks for the ride." The brunette unfastened her safety belt and climbed out of the car. She turned around, gave her glee club adviser a sad smile, and headed inside. She had a lot of feelings she had to work out.


End file.
